Hurt Me
by lily.owl
Summary: He was a loner and hoped to stay one for the rest of his life. That was until a certain blue-haired man crashed that hope. Grimmjow x Ichigo yaoi.
1. Prologue

Did you ever realize that when you hurt people you hurt yourself too? When you punch someone your knuckles hurt, right? But I'm talking about emotional pain, not physical. No matter how close you are to a person, whether they'd be your family, friends or enemies, somewhere deep down in your heart or your soul, you feel, even if unconsciously, that what you've done was really awful, that you certainly wouldn't want something like that happen to you.

That's what I felt at first.

And I tried to do something about it, honestly. But what would you've expected from a little kid? I tried to distance myself from everybody I didn't want to but possibly could hurt. At that time it seemed the only right thing to do.

But the bigger that infamous piece of invisible concrete between me and others grew the more pain I caused to them. So I chose to hate people, because it was the easy way out. Don't get me wrong here, though. That hatred didn't pop out of nothing. It was always there, in my soul. It was locked behind a big wooden door with a key that was my mother. She was so bright, and I was so blinded with her love, that I noticed nothing but her.

And then she died. A car hit her, she fell into a river and drowned. I saw everything, I was there and I could do nothing to save her. I hated myself for being so useless.

The door blew up.

I was left to walk on thin ice until the day I've almost had a chance to see my mommy again. Almost. Because people are selfish. Because they wanted me to live, while the only thing I wanted was to die. To die just like her, in a car accident. It was a perfect opportunity when that girl didn't notice the car approaching her on a high speed until it was too late.

Guess life hates me just as much as I hate people, because the girl ended up with a few scratches, and I… I'm a prisoner of a wheelchair for the rest of my life... because people are very selfish.

Though life's just as unhealthy as a car accident, it causes death, after all. I just had to wait.

My life's not as dramatic as you my think, though. I've had a lot of time to rethink some aspects of my life. At first, there was nothing but the frustration. I've missed my chance to meet my mom and apologize for not being able to save her! Then came the realization that my legs are paralyzed and there's very little chance that I'll fit the same scenario of death, and I'll have to learn how to live a new life. After, there were endless month of rehab after an attempted suicide, when I understood something. Being on the verge of life and death twice in sixteen years kind of put me in my mothers shoes. If I succeeded, I wouldn't want anybody to follow me into afterlife. I knew I would want them to move on, live happy and meet me in eighty years or so. And I didn't hate people anymore, I just didn't care.

Now that I no longer try to kill myself, for almost six years, I spend my days alone in flat on the first floor of a ten-story building somewhere near the center of Karakura Town (not that you need to know where exactly).

Of course, my dad and my sisters were against my living alone, but I really didn't want them to witness my never ending depression and constant emotional outbursts when something went wrong. I mean, life is a challenge by itself and it's that much worse for a physically challenged person.

And then, the man who was responsible for that car accident was "nice" enough to offer me something as a compensation. I asked for a flat, because I knew that man was quite famous and had an image to uphold. I'm sure you know him, Aizen Sousuke, who appeared to be a very kind person in public and an arrogant bastard in person. So I'm sure a small flat (even though everything was low enough for me to reach from the wheelchair and the bathroom was arranged properly) coasted him not more than a loaf of bread for a person with an average income.

Fortunately or unfortunately my relationship with Aizen didn't end there and I work for him from time to time. But Aizen's not the point here, another man is. You know how people say that bad luck comes in threes, right? Well, something like that happened to me. It wasn't necessarily bad, I don't even know what it was. But everything changed for the third time in my life when I met Him.

So, please welcome me, Kurosaki Ichigo, a loner, and my story about how fate likes to turn your world upside down.


	2. Violet Dust

Setting aside his pen, Ichigo closed the notebook. He traced his fingers along the golden design embossed on the black leather, thinking of how he first started keeping a diary. It was so hard to start writing, even to take a pen into his hand or open the notebook, but after the first few words it was so hard to stop. His hand danced on the yellow paper, like the one of an artist that he was, putting all of his feelings into words until he felt tears streaming down his face. Since then, that thing was his personal psychologist, whom he told everything that came to his mind, good or bad.

Putting the diary aside he reached for his laptop, noting that the weather outside hasn't changed since he woke up that morning. The mist had covered almost everything outside: the trees in the park in front of his apartment building, the street, the street lamps. A shiver ran down his spine at the thought of how nasty it should be outside. He hated the cold. And it was only the beginning of autumn. He took the laptop and his graphics tablet, a thing he worked for quite some time to buy, and, wheeling himself closer to his bed, put the laptop on the edge of the bed.

Starting the program he watched the naked figure on his bed, breathing in and out gently. She was lying on her stomach, her head tilted to Ichigo's side. Her left hand was hidden under the pillow, shoulder-length raven hair spread across the snow-white pillow and left cheek. The edge of the dark violet blanket was bunched near her waist, exposing her beauty. It was another hour or so till she woke up and Ichigo hurried to capture the sight.

It was always about the weather. It was forcing his mood, making his fingers itch to draw her. It wasn't the first time he did this while she was sleeping. And the position almost never changed, she always slept on her stomach, hiding at least one of her hands under the pillow. The only thing that changed were the colors he used. For this one he used all shades of violet and purple, and lavender. Staring at the finished drawing he couldn't help thinking how well those colors suited her. Her hair reminded him of the kind of roses that were such a dark shade of purple that looked almost black. It was so mysterious and depressing, and a tad bit violent. Her eyes were the color of amethyst. Her smooth pale skin that contrasted oh so well with her hair and the dark blanket.

She was so beautiful and so single.

After every time they had sex, he would wake up early in the morning feeling light-headed from all the thoughts spiraling in his mind like a tornado.

Would things be different if they actually dated? What would it be like to date someone at all? What if... what if let himself live?

But he knew it wouldn't work both way. He was just that kind of person, affections hurt him. Or so he made himself be. And she was his only friend, who didn't dare force him into something he didn't want. Besides, she loved her best girl friend since high school. It was her little personal drama she had no intentions to get rid of. But not many people could live long without sex, without getting all bitchy and restless, that is. And sleeping with another woman seemed wrong to her.

Yeah, what a drama-

"Are you going to stare at me whole day?" her gentle sleepy voice broke his musings, and he noticed that she was now resting on her side, the blanket covering her breast. He hardly noticed anything when he was that deep in is thoughts.

"Do you want something for breakfast?" he asked instead, saving the picture one more time and shutting down the laptop.

"Tea's fine," she yawned and stretched. "I'm gonna take a shower."

Ichigo nodded and wheeled himself into the kitchen where he set the kettle to boil and stared at the kinds of tea he had. _Which to chose?__

* * *

_

She hung her clothes on towel rail and turned on the water. Not waiting for the water to heat up she got under the spray, her breath hitched when the cold water hit her body.

Ichigo never noticed, but she always woke up somewhere in the middle of him drawing. She knew what he was doing, she felt it hearing the quite scratches of the pen. It felt like someone was caressing her body and it felt nice. But then the noise would stop, and she would open her eyes to meet Ichigo's unfocused gaze. It was rather unnerving, but it seemed that the man lived in a world on static images. He never noticed how the things around him changed, only the result.

The water was warm already, and she started washing her hair, her mind drifting off to the previous night's events. To some it may feel strange to have sex like they had. Considering that Ichigo's legs didn't function, she had to do all the work, but it was fine with her. She didn't need him to take her. She could take him herself.

She knew she was using Ichigo. Ichigo knew that too, but it never seemed to bother him.

Nothing bothered him, and she sometimes wanted to scream in frustration. But she never dared to argue with him. It was futile, because even her word never touched him.

Sighing, she turned off the water and dried herself with a towel. After putting on her clothes, she headed to the kitchen to see Ichigo sitting in front of the table, his back to her. On the table was a teapot covered with a yellow towel and two cups. She recognized the design on them as it was one of Ichigo's works. There were soft green tea petals that were falling down like snow.

She approached him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. One of her hands reached his right wrist covered with a black elastic wrist support. There would always be bandages under those supports, because Ichigo always covered the bandages either with supports or wore very long-sleeved t-shirts. She squeezed his wrist slightly and her heart stung a bit when she felt him wince.

"When would you stop hurting yourself?"

"When would you?"

She sight and went to sit on the other side of the small round table. It was so stupid of her to ask such a thing. Of course they won't stop any time soon. They both knew it.

She poured some tea into her cup and was greeted with the soapy smell of green tea and jasmine. The taste was the same soapy flavor, but was strangely calming.

"She's coming back next weekend," she announced between sips of her tea.

"Yeah, I know. She'd sent an email yesterday. It was half in French, but I got the idea."

"I sometimes wonder how did she get that job."

In fact, they did that often. Her friend was excellent in French, but half of the time she was so oblivious, that it was quite a big surprise that she got a job as an interpreter.

"I'm gonna go now. Have to open the dojo in an hour," she said, leaving the table to grab her jacket and her backpack. She was a karate instructor for almost a year now. Something she was very proud of, seeing as that dojo had been her second home since she was four.

He watched her put on her shoes and open the door. Then she leaned down and kissed him on the forehead, and was almost halfway down the hallway when he called her.

"Tatsuki," he waited for her to turn around, and then said something he prepared himself to say for a long time already. "I won't stop until _you_ stop, until you forget her."

"Deal," she smirked and was gone. Only then did he notice a man with a strange hair color of blue staring at him.

"What are you staring at," he asked, even though he knew that everyone would stare at his wheelchair. But the man shook his head and disappeared behind the door of the apartment that was across from his.

He didn't know that Stark had any friends or relatives, aside of his daughter. Not that he cared.

He returned to his flat and back to his bedroom, where he turned on some classic music and moved himself onto the bed. A few more hours of sleep sounded good.

* * *

**A/N: so, here's chapter two at last, yay! It's a bit too short, right? Sorry, but it was dedicated to Tatsuki and Ichigo's relationship only, and it was quite irritating to use 'she' so much, but it meant to be so. Look for a proper Grimmjow introduction in the next chapter.**


	3. Exile

After all these months he still felt himself incomplete. Like someone ripped his soul from out of his body, and it was floating and following him everywhere like a balloon tied to his arm with a thin silver ribbon. It would haunt him in his dreams, watch while he's sleeping. And he would wake up too early every morning, bed soaked in his sweat, and for a moment there it would feel as if he was looking into the eyes of his own soul. But that vaporous cloud would quickly retreat into his body, though not deep enough. And then, he would lie there, staring at the white ceiling, trying to conceal the awful memories. Those baby blue eyes and fair curly hair, a cute little smile, and then the screams of desperation and bright tongues of fire hugging the building in a death hold. But it seemed that the more he tried to forget the more distinct those horrible images would get.

Then the wet sticky sheets got too much to stand, so he went to the window and opened it, and then went to take a shower, leaving the mess that was his bed to dry.

The warm water felt nice, calming him, warming the skin, cleaning it off the uncomfortable feeling. So he turned the water to cold, keeping himself from pulling away from the spray. He struggled not to shake like a leaf, to keep breathing, because it felt like the cold water was suffocating him. But he stayed there until he was sure that every cell of his body was awake and ready for exercise.

Warming up his skin and drying his hair with a towel, he stared at his reflection in the mirror. He felt pathetic. He looked pathetic. His skin was a sickly pale color, with dark shades under his blue eyes. His blue hair hung in all directions, curling in all the wrong places. Where did his grin go? He wasn't smiling like he used to, he wasn't even frowning. His muscles were hidden to deep under the skin and his body was in a great need of a good work out. It was all wrong, but it was so hard to get the real Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez back.

_Fuck it._

He went back to the bedroom and closed the window. After putting on some sweatpants and a hoodie he headed for the front door to put a pair of sneakers. It was time for his everyday run.

Just as he was about to exit the apartment a quiet drowsy voice from the couch stopped him, "Hey, Grimm, I'm out of cigarettes."

"Smoking is bad for your health, and it's dangerous," Grimmjow said, now looking at Starrk, who didn't even open his eyes while speaking to him.

"If you didn't want to buy them you could've just said so," the man sighed, probably drifting off to sleep again.

Grimmjow hesitated a little. It wasn't hard for him to buy cigarettes for the man, but Starrk tended to fall asleep easily, often and any time of the day, so the man's habit of smoking was indeed pretty dangerous. And he didn't trust the fire department anymore. But...

"Fine, fine, old man," he grunted, walking out of the apartment and out of the building. It was fresh outside, but humid from the night's rain. There was no mist this time though.

Crossing the street and entering the park, that was across the apartment building he lived in, he started running. The thought of the mist made him remember something that happened just a few days ago.

The weather was awful that day, but it didn't stop him from doing his usual morning run. And on the way back home he saw a young man sitting in a wheelchair, probably seeing off his girlfriend that stood in the hallway. He paused at doorway to regard the kid. It was rude to stare at people so openly, but the kid didn't notice him. Ichigo, if he remembered it right, from what Starrk had told him. He felt strange. Not the kind of strange when you feel butterflies playing with your insides, but excited, because this Ichigo guy was only neighbor on his floor that he hadn't met yet. He studied the young man. His hair was the color of mango, his nose was strait and his lips were not too full and with upturned corners. He was wearing a light pink T-shirt and gray sweatpants, and he somehow reminded Grimmjow of _The Offspring_ vocalist. But Grimmjow shook his at the ridiculousness of that though, _the kid was much more prettier than Dexter Holland, obviously_, and entered his apartment.

He lived with Starrk and Lilynette, Starrk's daughter, for over a month now, and the only people he'd seen going in and out of that apartment were the girl, he assumed was Ichigo's girlfriend, and tall, muscled, gray-haired man, who's visits always resulted in yelling and shouting. And here Grimmjow thought that the walls in their building were thick enough. Guess not. Or those two were just being too loud. Anyway, he felt a bit safer after that incident. _'Cause there was an alive human being in the apartment across, not a ghost. Right..._

He passed a hobo, lying on the grass behind a bench, and another insomniac, who was already sweating from a long exercise. He moved on, circling the park few times when he noticed it was getting harder for him to breath.

_Damn,_ he should have brought his mp3-player with him. The music would've prevented his thouts from straying. It was hard to control his breathing, it was becoming erratic, his lungs burning with the need of oxygen. But he forced himself to continue, like he always did. Because he knew if he stopped, he would lose himself. Action was life. He had to move on. He couldn't go back. He had to continue. He will do it himself.

_Fuck his shrink. Fuck hospital. Fuck rehab._ Fuck. Them. All. He will do it himself.

He ran and ran, until his legs felt like giving out, his right side hurting like he took an electricity shot. And slowed down his running till he was walking, and headed back home, buying a pack of cigarettes on the way.

When he entered the apartment, Starrk was still sleeping. And not only that, but he was snoring loudly, which was annoying Grimmjow to hell and back. So he threw the cigarettes at the man. Starrk didn't even flinch, but he stopped snoring at least.

The moment Starrk stopped snoring, Grimmjow heard shuffling of sheets from one of the bedrooms and went to the kitchen to get some water. Soon enough Lily appeared in the kitchen doorway. She was wearing light green pajamas with teddy bears, and was yawning and rubbing at her right eye. Grimmjow would've even called the sight cute, if he didn't know that that brat could curse like a sailor. And of course he knew that, who did you think that vocabulary came from?

"'Morning, monster," he said as he finished his water. "I'm gonna take a shower."

"You stink," she nodded a greeting, moving to the fridge.

_He loved his family anyway._

Ichigo reached to set his cappuccino on the table. They met at a coffee shop in the center of their town. He, Tatsuki and Orihime. That was the plan, but it took another rout when Orihime appeared exactly thirteen minutes later and not alone. His name was Ishida Uryu, a half-Japanese half-French famous cloths designer and Orihime's future husband. He was Orihime's surprise for them, yay... But Ichigo didn't like surprises, and he was sure that from that day Tatsuki officially hated surprises. He could feet how tense she, he knew her since they were four, and by no he learned to feel things like that not even looking at her. He knew she was forcing a smile that didn't reach her eyes. But Orihime didn't notice that, she was too busy telling them how she and Uryu (she always pronounce the 'r' in French manner, and the bespectacled man was melting every time she said his name, his haughty appearance vanishing some where) met and about their future plans. She was too busy being in love. And he knew Tatsuki would rather kill herself than worry Orihime's happiness. But her death would upset Orihime, too.

_Undone._

The time flew by and the couple said their goodbyes and left some money to cover their order, leaving Ichigo and Tatsuki to watch at their retreating backs.

"At least it's a guy," Ichigo was the first to brake the silence, though he said it rather to himself. He sighed and turned his head to regard Tatsuki, who was staring ahead, seemingly at nothing. Feeling the need to break any thoughts that might have been running through her head, he snaked his hand around the back of her neck. And after a moment she gave in, hugging him, hiding her face in the crook of Ichigo's neck, where silent tears rolled one by one.

"Come on, red doesn't suit you," he said after a while. She nodded and leaned back to wipe the tears off her eyes. "Come home with me."

She nodded again, and they were gone.

**A/N: Oh, hell... I hope Grimmjow wasn't too OOC. And sorry for the wait, but I'm writing a bachelor's thesis this year and it's really depressing, not to mention how much time it calls for.**

**By the way, did you read the new chapter of Bleach (at last!)? I think Kubo's lost it finally. Though I enjoyed Karin and Yuzu so much, they're so cute I love them.**


	4. 108

**I feel useless.**

**Oh, and Bleach belongs to Tite Kubo.**

-.-.-

Sometimes, or most of the times, when you are young, you wish that days would pass quicker, so you can watch another episode of your favorite show, that you'd grow up sooner, to become an adult, whom people would actually listen. But cruel as the world is, the older you become, the more you understand how much time you've wasted. That there were moments you wish had never ended.

How odd, Tatsuki was reminded about the laws of reality while paying for clothes. There were two young women behind the counter. A busty ginger, who was apparently babbling about her cute little daughter, and a petite silent girl with emerald hair and a frown, who seemed to be immune to her co-worker's noisiness. They reminded her about Ichigo and Orihime, and how much fun they had together as kids, their dreams. Orihime's awful imagination. Ichigo's ability to smile and frown at the same time, and make it look beautiful.

It was all a bubble.

When did their world start to spin the wrong way?

Was it when she suddenly realized that the desire to hug her friend at odd times or places was anything but innocent. Or was it when Ichigo decided to paint his hospital room red with blood. Or maybe when her dear 'Hime showed her a one-way ticket to France?

Why was it so hard to forget her feelings? She still had her family. Ichigo was part of her family, too. In any other circumstances she would've called him her brother, because there was nothing else you could call a person you knew for so long.

Realizing that she was spacing out, Tatsuki grabbed the change and left the shopping center feeling like something was slipping out of her reach. You know that feeling, because you felt like that, at least once in your life, too. That feeling when your senses tell you something is wrong, but you don't know what exactly, because your conscience suddenly decided to speak another language. Like when a word is on the tip of your tongue, but you can't remember it. Like in those movies, where a person catches someone who is falling, but their arms are too sweaty or whatever the script says, and their hand disconnect. And it's so frustrating.

And more drama follows.

Tatsuki didn't want any more drama than there already was. But something was missing, and it was driving her crazy. She didn't want anybody to get hurt just because she couldn't get on more friendly terms with her own brain.

She shivered from the cold air of early December, that was seeking warmth through the material of her woolen jacket, trying to kill what was left of the body heat. So she quickened her steps to reach Ichigo's home, before her right knee started aching again.

Almost three month passed since Orihime's visit, and Tatsuki hadn't heard a word from her since then. As if she vanished from the face of the planet, which was so out of character for her. Were they even friends anymore?

When they first became friends they were inseparable, and although she knew that after graduating they wouldn't be spending so much time together, she couldn't imagine that their friendship would be cut off completely. After finding out that her so-called friend was going to marry some stuck-up, girly looking French designer, who didn't know a word in Japanese, she was so angry. Mostly at herself, though, for loosing her chance. Since than she began visiting Ichigo more often to stay away from depressing thoughts. And, secretly, to cut Ichigo's time alone, so he wouldn't have much possibilities to cut himself.

When the familiar building came to view she ran to the entrance.

Yelling was heard from the hallway, and Tatsuki smirked as she knew exactly who was visiting Ichigo today, all her worries and depression dropped to some far away places of her mind.

She opened the door without knocking only to be greeted with the sight of Ichigo being wrestled to the floor by his instructor.

"Hiya, Kensei. How's it going?" the man grunted, glaring down at the younger one.

"Ichigo's being a whiny bitch again."

"Am not!"

"Well, it seems he's getting enough training like that," she winked at Ichigo's petulant expression, trying not to laugh out loud, and proceeded to remove her shoes and jacket, placing her bag near the front door.

The situation was ridiculous, really. A man like Kensei, a rough man in appearance and character, was trying to help with a stubbornness of a bull, and Ichigo was refusing with the same force.

It always started like this and continued until the bigger man overpowered Ichigo, which didn't take that much time. Fortunately or unfortunately Ichigo's legs were paralyzed from knees to toes, and he needed to keep the working muscles in tone so they won't atrophy (and so he wouldn't have problems going to the bathroom – a fact Ichigo was mildly embarrassed about). Kensei was here to help him train, and Ichigo was behaving like a little brat.

Or maybe he just liked being manhandled.

A blush crept up Tatsuki's face at the thought of Ichigo liking guys, so she turned quickly and went to the kitchen to make some tea. She sometimes wondered weather she was too open minded or simply perverted.

But she lived for moments like this, little illusions of peace.

"Who wants some pasta?" she yelled, putting the kettle on the stove. She heard the both men reply in affirmative, and, nodding to herself, started taking out the needed ingredients.

-.-.-

Later in the evening Ichigo was napping on the couch in the living room. Tatsuki sat beside him sipping on her tea and watching sports news. The room was dark, the only lightning coming from the TV-set.

It was then that Lily barged through the front door, startling both of the living room occupants. Announcing that next Saturday they were invited to Christmas dinner, she disappeared before anyone could answer.

"Uh, she gets more and more weird every time I see her," Tatsuki murmured still looking at the door.

"Nah, she's only weird when she sees you."

-.-.-

"So," Ichigo drawled. Half into the Christmas dinner he couldn't keep quite anymore, looking at green hue of what had previously been dark blond hair. "Green? Seriously, Riri, you keep surprising me."

The girl blushed, probably from both embarrassment and anger, and glared at Ichigo. "Well, how the hell was I supposed to know it would turn out green, the box said purple!" Ichigo knew it wasn't her first time experimenting with hair color, which always turned not the way she wanted them to, but there was no need reminding her that.

"Okay, okay, sorry. No need to react so wild," he said and took sip of his orange juice, observing the people around the table. Not surprisingly, Stark was about to fall asleep in spite of his sitting position. To his left, the new addition to their group, the blue-haired stranger, Grimmjow, introduced as Stark's adoptive son, was trying to contain his laughter with a hand on his mouth. And to Ichigo's right, he didn't even have to look there to now that Tatsuki was becoming irritated with him, ready to punch.

"I'm not wild."

But Ichigo had to see. To test his theory. It wasn't even hard for him to keep a straight face, not to laugh.

"Yeah, you eat meat and growl, like a wild animal."

She did growl at that, sending her adoptive brother into a fit of teetering giggles. And Tatsuki sent a punch to his arm, not to hurt him, but-

_Bingo. _Lilly stilled and blushed, same as at least a few dozen times before when she focused her attention on his dear friend.

It wasn't anything he had to figure out on his own, he knew he was oblivious to a lot of things. But it was something he dealt with before, a glaring possibility to make his friend happy, when there weren't as many pieces of her broken life as of his.

The rest of the dinner went smooth, with Stark alert and watching everybody suspiciously, as if he knew he missed something.

Well, until Stark started snoring.

-.-.-

_Now, I'm positive Lily has a crush on Tatsuki._

_I don't know why or how I came to this, but I'm sure she is. Most people think that I'm unobservant... Well, I am quite oblivious to some things, but I believe in what I see, and I see a lot. So, back to the problem, I felt the need to help the girl, at least because them hooking up would bring Tatsuki out of her chronic ten years depression._

_Now, the hard part is, that I don't really have the necessary time to plan their get together, since for a good part of my day was occupied by the presence of the blue-haired menace that was my new neighbor._

_Next day after the Christmas dinner he just walked into my apartment like he owned it, with a newspaper of some sort he plopped onto the couch and a few moments later my jaw dropped as he pulled a pencil out of his hair, scratched his head with it, and turned to me to ask, "You mind? Can't concentrate while Stark's snoring so loudly."_

_I don't think he would've left if I ask. I don't know, it's been a few days since and I'm still too shocked to do anything. His company wasn't very annoying though, he just sat and scribbled something on the newspapers he brought, but his presence kept me from other thoughts, so the only thing I could do was work, aside from daily routine, of coarse._

_It was New Years Eve, and the bluenette – Grimmjow – was yet again on his spot on the couch reading another newspaper._

-.-.-

It was half an hour til midnight when Ichigo finally started feeling tired enough to go to bed and his bluenette neighbor was still keeping him unnecessary company.

"I'm going to bed, you gonna sleep here?" Ichigo asked, turning his attention from the TV and to the bluenette.

"Wha'? You're not waiting for midnight?" Grimmjow said incredulously as he shifted to gaze at his orange-haired companion.

"Why? I don't see anything special about it," Ichigo replied.

For a minute or so both were silent when Grimmjow shocked him the second time since they were introduced to each other by standing up to grab the comforter from the back of the couch, which he wrapped Ichigo in, and then steered the wheel-chair by its handles in the direction of the door.

"Hey! What the hell, you bastard?" Ichigo yelled, slightly embarrassed by his slow reaction. He tried to move back using the wheels, but it seemed that the man behind him possessed quite a lot of power in his hands.

"Shush, I think you need some fresh air," the bluenette grunted, shutting the apartment's door behind them.

Before long they were outside and moving through the park. They reached the other side where it ended with a small lake. It was a beautiful mirror for the half moon that hung above them.

Nevertheless, Ichigo wanted to protest again, but before he could, the temple on the other side of the lake started ringing their bell. And by the time the bell stopped, Ichigo had one hundred and eight more questions to add to the list of thing he didn't know about the bluenette.


End file.
